My thoughts on “bad” situations for the most part is that always something good will come of it. For example, this whole money transfer pain in the ass has gotten Andy onto some new forums and connected with some really nice and intelligent people. For me, this theory applies to everything except death. Nothing good can come of death. Well let me rephrase. Nothing good can come of human death. The death of carrots, tree nuts and seafood is okay by me. Although, I still feel a little bad about the seafood.

The way things are, intellectually I get it. Birth, life and death equals cycle of life. Well that’s all just bullshit. Circle of life my ass. I’m here and I want to stay. I also want all the people I admire and adore to stay with me. This whole set up is cruel and unusual. I’ve got no congressman to write, no suggestion box to fill and a revolution to wage against the mocking, deafening sound of nothingness and oblivion. What the fuck universe? What. The. Fuck.

I don’t believe in god. I want to. I really do. The comforting thought of Jesus flying around in the sky with his kind eyes and legions of angels just waiting to protect me from car crashes, terrorists or help me to win the lottery is very appealing, believe me. But it’s just not true. I’m sorry, it’s not. This thinking is a protective device that humanity has come up with for not having and never having any answers.

These things have been rattling around in my brain and I just wanted to get them out. There. Out.

Other than that thorn in my brain we have been climbing at the gym, eating great food, laughing all day long and planing for an amazing future here on planet earth.

I’m sitting in front of my computer screen knowing that I should be putting files in their proper places from before I wiped my hard drive clean. I don’t wanna.

What I do want to do is eat a chocolate cake with toffee bits followed by a triple venti carmel macciado. Both things are not going to happen. What I am going to do is sit here on this strange aqua, folding, puffy seat, backrest thing and type some stuff that you may or may not care about.

I don’t know if I mentioned it or not before but Andy has become quite enamored of the idea of buying and living in a sailboat. This all hinges on taking sailing lessons and still being in love with it all, but I know my husband, and I think it will suit him well. What’s funny about this is, I hate boats and am petrified of open water. But, I’ve been mulling it over and I think I could get over my fears. I’m just now getting over my fears of water period and am having a fantastic time. Snorkeling in Hawaii, one of the highlights of the trip, would never have been if I stayed a sissy baby. I don’t think this would be any different. Really anytime you have a unfounded fear it could do nothing but enhance your existence by surmounting it. Right? Also, I’m madly in love with Andy and wherever he goes, I go. He’s the guy that thought my idea of selling our stuff and living in an RV was a good idea. So far we’ve had nothing but fun. It’s finally my turn to go with his hairbrained scheme!

So, a very, very, very loose plan for after this baseball season, if it goes well is to sell the RV and buy a sailboat.

My computer is semi repaired.

Oh mother internet, how I’ve missed you.

Thanks to everyone for the offers of help. The money transfer situation is under control with help from some amazingly nice strangers from the 2+2 forums, and friends of friends. Andy is slowly relaxing into the mellow and easygoing guy that I’m used to seeing.

Does anyone know any trustworthy Canadians (or any other country for that matter) that could transfer money out of our Netteller account, into theirs and back into our U.S. account? I am pretty sure that there is nothing illegal in transferring the money in this way. There would be a commission for anyone that could offer help. Since the US has cracked down on internet gambling, and because of other things that have happened, Netteller has shut down to US citizens, making it impossible to cash out balances. We’re concerned that they will string US players along and then declare bankruptcy. Then we’ll really be out of luck. I know this is weird thing to post, but I’m sure I’ve posted weirder over the past years.

First Netteller said the request for the funds would take one to two weeks, then four to six and now, they have no time table. Andy still has hope that we’ll get our money. I am more cynical. It’s enough money that when I think about it, I get a little sick to my stomach. Either way, we’ll be fine. We have each other, our health and enough money for baseball season coming up. Still, if we can avoid this small disaster, we’ll try almost any avenue.

I am skipping the regular gym today and going to the rock climbing gym.

Is that not the most exciting thing you’ve heard in ages?

For various reasons (a DEEP, DEEP tissue massage and too much weight lifting), I feel like I’ve been politely beat up. Surprisingly enough, alcohol poisoning isn’t in the list of reasons. Since I’ve been in San Diego Nova and I (mostly I) have been drinking like rock stars. It was a fun week and a half in the wayback machine but we (mostly me) are puffy, and our faces are breaking out.

Time to lay off the sauce. Bye bye sauce. It was fun while it lasted.

While Nova was showing me a $1400 pair of shoes on the Nordstrom website, made out of stingrays (one for each shoe). Andy said, “Awwww, stingrays are nice….well….except for that one.”

I love that guy.

(Since time has passed and the connection between stingray death and Steve Irwin may be lost, let me put it together again. Steve Irwin died by being punctured in the heart by a stingray close to the time of this post)

My computer is sick and won’t boot. Fortunately, there seems to be a laptop in every room of this house (and a tofu chicken in every pot).

We have been looking into economic citizenship and swiss bank accounts. How sexy is that. Are these things I shouldn’t be mentioning to the public? Am I in a secret government database now?

I just ate half a large pizza and am drinking a stiff vodka and gingerale. In my defense, I did work out this morning so the bad decisions in the second half of the day hopefully can be tempered by that. The New England vs. Indiana playoff game is on the tv. Don’t tell Andy, but I’m kind of enjoying it. We jokingly refer to Payton Manning as my boyfriend. Even though we’re married and I think Payton is cute (I dig his comedic timing) Andy is rooting for Indiana. He’s such a secure guy.

The afore mentioned Andy is draped across the brown leather couch looking at his laptop screen. I’m suspecting he’s reading the Sportsbook review forums. It’s his Perez Hilton/.

I didn’t really want to tell the Dr. Laura story because then I would have to admit to you all that I listen to Dr. Laura. Actually, have listened to Dr. Laura for the last fifteen years. Not only have I and do I listen to her, I like her show. I disagree with most of her politics and don’t believe in god. She can be a little curt and bitchy sometimes, but much of her advice for most people is pretty good. I especially like her devotion to kids. When people call in and their kids are acting up she really calls the parents out on their divorces, remarriages, live in boyfriends/girlfriends and the effects that all has on the kids who have no choice in the matter.

I’ve gotten Novabella hooked on the show also. Last week, we found out that Dr. Laura was coming to San Diego to sign her new book. We wanted to go but felt really dumb about it. Especially since Nova went to a previous book signing, but left the bookstore because the people waiting to see her were…..well, you know. We like her show and all, but we’re fans, not disciples.

We got there early but still had number 125. It was going to be a long wait, but we were prepared with travel coffee mugs full of vodka and cherry soda. We thought it made it a better story and more entertaining for us to be drinking while meeting Dr. Laura. Also, my mom drove us so we wanted something to take the edge off. Nova got restless and went to walk around. She came back with a devilish grin and number 52 that she had pulled out of the Barnes and Noble trash can. We got in line with her new book that we bought for her to sign. The screener asked me who this was going to be dedicated to. I said, “Andy and Cindy”. He wrote it on a post it note and stuck it to the inside cover.

We got to the front of the line and I walked up to the table first. Nova was trying to tell the person who was taking pictures how to work her camera. I said “Hi Dr. Laura”. She looked at the yellow sticky note in my book and said, “are you Cindy?” I said yes. Then she asked, “Where’s Andy?” I said, “Uh, uh, hmmmm, he’s at home on the computer.” I stammered because he was at home playing internet poker. I wasn’t prepared for the question, and I didn’t think that telling Dr. Laura that my husband was a professional gambler would have gone over well. My cell phone was in my hand and I jokingly said, “I can call him”. She said, “yeah, call, I want to talk to him”.

All I can say is thank god for Andy that it went to voice mail. What the hell do you say to an unexpected reprimanding call from Dr. Laura. I was laughing like crazy. You can hear it in the background of the recording. It was amazing because she really didn’t take any time with most of the people. Nova and I discussed the night’s events later on and both mentioned that we had made eye contact with her several times while we were in line. I think she thought, and correctly so, we were good performers that played well to a crowd and knew how to take a joke. It was a fun night and worth the price of the book.

And now….the clip.

Instead of going to the gym, I’m sitting on the couch watching videos of cute cats.

I can’t post the story of Dr. Laura until Andy gets the voice mail message off of his phone. I mean really the story wouldn’t be complete without the audio clip.

One more nail in the coffin

Las Vegas I hate you but I will be civil.

…Tales of Dr. Laura to follow.

Living with Novabella is a laugh riot a minute. We’ve been working out every day, eating delicious food and having crazy adventures. Andy has been playing poker with a new strategy so baseball research is on hold for a few weeks. There’s more bad news on the anti internet gambling bill that moves us a little closer to us having to go back to Vegas from April to October. Nothing is set in stone but I’m trying to make friends with the idea in case it comes to pass.

I haven’t been inspired to write even when hysterical things happened like a message from Dr. Laura on Andy’s voice mail. Yes, she really called him. If anyone wants to hear about it, comment and I’ll post the story.

My mom is in San Diego for another week. My sister has her hands full with the new baby and her husband’s mom who came to help and ended up being on bed rest at their house.

I humored my mom and went to play bingo with her, Andy and our new friend Erica. Before bingo started I went to the restroom. A lady in one of the other stalls (this is gross so turn back now if you must) let out a huge fart. Explosive even. There was a pause and then she yelled out “Hallelujah!” All the bingo ladies laughed.

Andy won fifty bucks. I was reprimanded for four hours by my mom for not blotting the numbers fast enough and not taking bingo seriously enough. She actually said, “this isn’t fun, it’s work!”

My husband is back from Vegas and in his rightful place at my side at Nova Bella’s house in San Diego.

All is right with the world.

I have a new niece. Elizabeth Mary, born at 7:40 this morning.

Also, my mom is having a fantastic time in San Diego and wants to move here. Andy is still in Vegas. He’ll be here on Monday. I got a sassy new haircut and am spending most of the time at the gym or laying on the fluffy seafoam green area rug watching On Demand tv.

So fun.

2006 New Year’s 80’s costume bash
Originally uploaded by cindigodotcom.

We made it to the 80’s themed New Year’s Eve party. Although there wasn’t enough hairspray, toothpaste or gel to make my hair into a mohawk, I think we did alright.

It felt like coming home, putting on the fingerless gloves, jelly bracelets and black raccoon eye make-up. In fact, it didn’t even feel like a costume. Going to the pre big bash house party with all of the other 80’s party goers was a surreal, deja vu experience. It felt like college. For an hour or so I sat in the corner of the couch with one leg draped over the arm, drinking out of a red plastic cup happily watching everyone with their skinny ties, fluorescent earrings and big hair.

The actual event was in a converted church. My favorite part was dancing endlessly to eighties music while watching the VH1 classic videos broadcast on the blank white walls.

Most of the personal dramas that go on at these sorts of events were lost on me since I didn’t know most of the party goers. I did see girls in tears, a few arguments, a couple of make out sessions and pictures of Nova’s friend passed out under a table.

Miss DeLovely was a great hit with her black and neon pink ensemble that I helped style. If only I could find a niche market for an eighties stylist. I could clean up.